


New Rules

by reserve



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Higgins Should Probably Run, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Ren Cheats at Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though they lost the day, Hux won.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, we all heard about the _girls_ episode, and I couldn't resist, and I am not sorry. Some lines have been lifted almost directly from the show for kicks. 
> 
> This is for [Hollycomb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb), who asked. Eventually I'm going to stop putting Hux in bathrooms.

They rushed back aboard the shuttle, Hux shouting orders for the pilot to take off before he could fully comprehend what was coming out of his own mouth. The air smelled like burning wires and seared flesh. Kylo Ren was right on his heels, and Ren sagged against the bulkhead as the hatch hissed shut against stray blaster fire, breathing hard through his idiotic helmet. Hux shoved a hand through his hair, his knuckles were sore.

Their mission hadn't gone according to plan.

“Shields to 100%,” Hux said, hovering behind the two command chairs.

“Sir, they don't have cannons it's not—”

He didn't get to finish. Captain Farr was suddenly clutching at his throat, his face going red.

“That was a direct order,” said Kylo Ren, from right beside him, his voice was even and firm through his vocoder.

Farr’s co-pilot—Hux thought his name was Arvey—scrambled for the controls as they dipped drunkenly before stabilizing and hurtling out of atmo. They left behind at least five dead crewmembers, and the resistance sympathizer they had come to obtain. Farr was nodding vigorously in distress, the pressure on his throat having quashed his ability to speak. Hux could tell he was sorry.

“Let him go,” he snapped at Ren. “Save me the paperwork.”

Abruptly, Farr was released and he fell back against his seat like a cut-loose marionette. His eyes were damp and his breath came in asthmatic wheezes. Hux snapped his fingers and a young lieutenant came to his side from where he'd been anxiously hanging back.

“See to this man,” said Ren, before Hux could get another word out. “The shuttle is yours, Arvey.”

Then he whirled away, revealing robes that had clearly been on fire at some point during the fray. The usual dramatic effect was somewhat ruined by the tattered hem. Hux watched him go, no doubt skulking off to the room they were regrettably forced to share on this older model cruiser. They had tried to avoid looking military while on world. Fat lot of good that had done. Hux wished he could blame the whole botched affair on Ren, but it had been a combination of poor timing and understandable human error, not unhinged theatrics, that found them in their current state.

Hux was jittery.

He felt battle-high despite their failure. The adrenaline that had flooded his system while his blaster was still in hand retained control of his senses. It was incomparable to the training sims. When the blaster fire could leave you sprawled out on your ass and half-dead, when the screams and blood were real, and when Ren was truly slicing through limbs with his glowing red weapon like some wrathful, wraithlike god of old, Hux’s whole body felt aflame. He still wasn't used to it: the feel of his blood singing with the rush and rumble of war in his ears. He shivered, his eyesight swam. Hyperspace was a mesmerizing tunnel of light outside their cocoon of alusteel.

“General?”

Hux hummed.

“Sir, we’ve set a course for the Finalizer. We expect to arrive at 0600 next.”

Hux hummed again.

“Sir, you're bleeding, sir.”

“What was that?” Hux shook himself.

“My apologies, sir,” said the lieutenant whose name Hux didn't know. He apologized as though he were at fault for Hux not listening to him. They should all be like that, Hux thought rather giddily. “You're bleeding,” the lieutenant said again. His thick blonde eyebrows rose up in concern. Hux was glad this one wasn't dead. “Would you like me to patch you up?”

Hux looked down at the knuckles of his right hand, which were in fact bloodied. The skin had a shaved, chiffon quality, and blood stained the flimsy, delicate pieces that remained.

“Only skinned,” Hux said, dismissive. “Nothing I can't manage.”

“Will you be managing that. Now? Sir?”

“Yes, yes, Lieutenant—”

“Higgins,” supplied Higgins helpfully. He had a bright-eyed, white-teethed look to him that Hux liked. An eagerness that appealed to him as well. His uniform was properly pressed, his hair tidy and regulation length, and a cursory once over showed that his boots were polished within an inch of their lives.

“Thank you, _Higgins_.” Hux nodded. “That will be all.”

“Sir.” Higgins inclined his perfectly parted blonde head. His cheeks had pinked up under Hux’s scrutiny and Hux found he liked that very much too.

Behind them, both pilots were distracted. Farr was nursing a cup of water as he recovered, and Arvey spoke quietly to him. They barreled placidly through time and space. With autopilot engaged there would be very little to do for the next several hours. Higgins shifted lightly from foot to foot.

Hux caught himself staring longer than he should have. Higgins had very large, very blue eyes like a child or a pet. He blinked at Hux, and Hux surely imagined the tip of very pink tongue wetting Higgins’ lower lip for a second of infinite length. Hux’s lightly padded combat uniform felt too constricting, and he longed to remove it and take solace in the cool, recycled air. Instead, he tugged down his jacket sleeves and felt the skin stretch and burn over his injured hand. It sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure down his spine, razor sharp.

“Was there something else, sir?” Higgins peered at him. His eyes were absurd.

Hux swallowed. He could feel himself growing erect in his trousers.

“Carry on,” he said, and turned on his heel before he could tip over the precipice and ask Higgins to see to his hand afterall.

Their small suite on the shuttle was dark when Hux entered. No sign of Ren. He didn’t bother calling on the lights, instead pulling off his uniform as he made a beeline for the refresher. He let the pieces fall where they were; they would need to be laundered anyhow. The lights in the ‘fresher came up automatically and Hux turned on the sonic shower all while avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care to see what he looked like when this aroused. He knew his face and chest were likely flushed, his smattering of freckles fading into the red.

As he stepped into the sonic, Hux wondered when the hot, tight feeling would leave him. The soothing pulses against his skin did nothing to carry away the itchy, restlessness he felt, nor clear the haze from his mind. He felt intoxicated, there was no other word for it. His thoughts lingered momentarily on Higgins but he chased them away, attempting to find a more suitable outlet for his frustrations. When he closed his eyes, and let his shoulders relax into the warm air, he could only re-play the short battle in his mind. The dirt fell away from his body, and he smoothed his hands over his chest, down to the downy tops of his thighs, carefully avoiding his erection. This was not the place, not with Ren likely to disrupt his fragile state at any moment.

The light in the sonic shifted from aquamarine to dark blue, signifying the completion of its task. Hux sighed. His subconscious was persistent, and in his mind’s eye, he saw Ren moving with vicious precision as he cut down one resistance soldier after another. It was more a fantasy than a recall of the day, but the scene felt real and very tempting. His cock twitched hopefully. Hux shook his head. He left the shower and pulled on the heavy robe he always traveled with, tugged the belt into a pinching knot, and still avoiding the mirror, and the ache between his legs, opened the door back into the bedroom.

The room was still dark. He could barely make out the shape of the two beds they had been furnished with for this particular trip.

“Lights to ten percent,” Hux said. He intended to fix himself some tea and read for a time.

Then he turned towards the entrance and nearly leapt out of his skin. Ren was there, leaning against the wall by the door, a great mynock of a man, his face a pale moon in the gloaming. Hux clutched at his robe, but Ren moved at an inhuman pace, and was on him before Hux could speak. Ren smelled like copper and smoke, like burning. His face was much too close. And it was all too familiar. Ren’s hair was a black-winged riot, his lips looked wet. They had kissed once before, under similar circumstances, but Hux had pushed him away and flounced off, his head pounding, staunchly repulsed by himself—by how easily he’d melted in Ren’s deceptively strong arms, by how quickly his mouth had parted to Ren’s wicked pout. Now Ren’s hands were at his waist, holding him fast, and they seemed to span the width of his midsection.

“You’re lucky,” Ren said, breaking through the heavy silence, “that I’m the only Force sensitive person aboard this shuttle.”

“And _why_ is that?” Hux lifted his chin.

“Vengeful lust,” Ren said. He inhaled deeply. “Coming off of you in waves.” He pushed his mouth against Hux’s ear. “It’s so hot, I can _feel_ it.”

Hux made a disgusted sound, and moved to shove Ren away, but Ren clutched tighter at him, and even without the Force, Hux knew he was a stronger man by far.

“I like it. I like when you’re loud.”

“Shut up, Ren.”

“You don’t know when it will pass. When you’ll stop feeling like you could tear out the galaxy’s throat with your teeth. Afraid you’ll take off the muzzle and do it.”

Hux took a shuddering breath. “I’m not doing  _anything_  with you.”

One of Ren’s bare hands moved from his waist to the interior of his robe and began charting into dangerous territory. It was possible Hux had never been harder in his life.

“Would you prefer Higgins?” Ren asked him, in an amused whisper, rubbing a thigh between his. “To take care of that for you?”

“ _Kriff you_ ,” Hux said, and pushed Ren away as hard as he could.

Ren went, laughing at him in the half-light.

“Come on, General. You’ll live to see another day. No need to keep up the petty display of propriety.”

“I’m not letting you touch me.”

“I won’t.” Ren put up his hands. “No touching.” He threw himself down on the dull grey couch in the room’s center and patted it. His clothing was more pared down than Hux had realized; only his tunic and his leggings were in place.

“No touching,” Hux repeated, and went to sit as far away from Ren as he could. “And I’m not going alone.”

Ren smirked at him. “Of course not. Do you want to race?”

“For the love—”

“Go!” Ren said and shoved a hand below his waistband.

Hux looked away, he licked his palm with a wince, and then reached beneath his robe. It spoke volumes about his depleted mental state that his baser nature had won out and he was still miraculously hard, and growing harder as he listened to Kylo Ren touch himself. _Kylo Ren_ , of all people. He thought of Higgins.

“That’s cheating,” Ren said.

“ _That’s_ cheating!”

Ren turned to look at him. His long fringe had fallen into his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but his mouth was open, his breath quick.

“Don’t look. it’s against the rules.”

“ _You_ don’t look; you’re the pervert on this ship," Ren said.

Hux scowled and redoubled his effort, staring straight ahead. He could hear every stroke of Ren’s hand, faster than his own. He moaned in spite of himself, high-pitched and stupid sounding to his own ears.

“New rules,” bit out Kylo Ren, like he was choking on it.

Then his eyes locked onto Hux and Hux found himself staring back as though magnetized. He could not look away, he could not drop his gaze to where Ren’s hand worked punishingly in his lap. He was lost in the fathomless depths of Ren’s eyes, in the intensity of his stare, like he was seeing directly through Hux, into him. His breathing was oafishly loud, and the combined sound of flesh on flesh between them was obscene.

“Go on,” Ren urged. “I want to lose.”

"Damnit," Hux said, frowning, and then his body gave in. He cupped his other fist just in time to catch his semen. His whole body jerked with the force of his orgasm. His chest was heaving. Beside him, Ren was still frantically touching himself, but the hand closest to Hux reached out and snatched up the fist full of his come.

“Ren….”

“Doesn’t count,” Ren said.

And Hux watched mesmerized, attempting to catch his breath, as Ren brought his hand up to his mouth, the one with the bloodied knuckles, and proceeded to lick it clean, his thick tongue making broad sweeps over Hux’s palm, cleaning away his seed, and licking over the torn skin, as he finished himself off. He came with Hux’s hand pressed to his lips.

“I think that’s cheating,” Hux whispered. He let Ren keep his hand captive. The gossymer surrounding his brain had retreated some. His knuckles stung. Ren was terrible.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ren said against this skin, breath very warm. “You won.”

Hux supposed he had. He could feel Ren’s mouth shift into a smirk.

“Higgins wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://reserve.tumblr.com), where I am basically freaking out about Adam Driver at all times and how I feel personally victimized by his mouth.


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